Authors Note: Some additions were made to chapter two, you might not notice them, but you might. So if you feel like rereading it it might be a good idea and if you don't you won't miss much.

Chapter 3: Home, Or As Close As We Could Get.

'Eragon.'

He let out a slow breath, from between clenched teeth, but kept his eyes facing forwards, and his hands gripping tightly whatever there was to grip on this saddle 'Not now Saphira.'

'Ah, yes, of course, you're ultimate defence. 'Not now', 'Later', 'I'm not in the mood', 'Don't do this, not right now'. You have many ways of phrasing it but are ultimately avoiding the issue. That is not healthy, my beloved Rider, nor will I allow you to do so, at least not in this matter' her tone was stern, lacking the typical playfulness with which she usually taunted her rider. This wasn't about taunting him, this was about something she considered more serious, 'protecting him'.

And so this time he just flat out sighed 'What do you want me to say?'

'Many things. None have bearing here and now. This is not a matter of what I want you to say, this is a matter of you being a reckless fool, constantly saved by chance, fortune and misfortune in equal measure. How long will it last? How long until you say a word, and that word proceeds to kill you, my beloved Rider?' again stern, a veil covering the anger she felt at his actions, knowing that he would not respond well to them or not wanting them to impact upon this discussion.

'Well, lucky for me then, I have someone more skilled at magic than I to take control when I fuck up, eh?' though it was said with a certain self chastising mockery, there was no humour to it, at least he didn't feel any.

He had rendered Helgrind into a pile of rubble, crushed a mountain, a whole fucking mountain… a MOUNTAIN, a hundred million tonnes of rock or more, torn down like a castle's keep. But it wasn't him who did it, wasn't Eragon who had performed the deed, he just wielded the sword, just swung the axe, someone else dealt with the mess, in this case his old buddy Legion.

The spell would've killed him, his intent at least. 'Crush', he had wanted to crush it whole, down into a ball no larger than his balled fist. He would not have survived the feat, if it had even been fully performed. So rather than face his death, someone else had taken the reigns of the spell and… reinterpreted it. Crush became merely a broad statement, defining roughly what he wanted, the mountain to be rendered 'not a mountain', and the mountain was 'crushed' in a sense, in the sense of it was weakened such that it crushed itself, collapsing under its own weight.

And even that had taken almost all the power they possessed.

Saphira was running on barely a quarter of a tank, Eragon was near unconscious, and Legion was barely clinging to existence. With all the spirits contained within him, with Legion and his own strength, with his own power and Saphira, he had very carefully and in a excessively safe yet also very precise, surgically almost, manner destroyed a mountain… mostly.

There were still some larger chunks, but the peaks had all fallen and most of the bases were in tatters, it was hardly worshipable anymore, if nothing else, and certainly could no longer play host to less than wholesome creatures, it was too… rubbly, for that.

And Helgrind wasn't even that big of a mountain, compared to some of the peaks in the Spine or, god forbid, the Beors, Helgrind was positively miniscule, and yet it had almost killed him to knock it down.

'Eragon, I will stop, rip you from my saddle, kindly ask Roran and Katrina to step down and RIP YOUR FUCKING ARSEHOLE APART IF YOU AREN'T BLOODY CAREFUL!'

He would've laughed if she weren't so serious, and if the cause for her anger were not her concern for him. As it was all he could muster was a smirk he didn't feel and she didn't bother acknowledging.

'I thought our time with the elves had bestowed some wisdom… nay, rather some level of detachment from your emotions upon you, that you might look at a situation with logic and not allow yourself to make foolishly rash decisions because of your emotions. But no, you are still rash, rash and impetuous, arrogant, foolhardy, and utterly stupid.'

Her wings beat harder for a moment, an indicator, the only that could be seen, though not the only that could be felt, of her anger, then she slowed to a glide, letting a calm sweep over her.

'Eragon… I have told you this before, many times in fact, but if you die I will not live long beyond it, if at all. So don't. Don't do things that might kill you, don't be stupid, just… just don't. Please' many seconds passed, with only the sound of the wind, and their own personal thoughts instead of each others 'For me.'

'I know' he said leaning back to stare at the sky 'I know Saphira. I just… I don't.'

She laughed, it made Roran and Katrina jumped as the flight became a little rocky, but she evened out after a few moments 'My Rider finally admits his ignorance. What a tremendous day it is indeed' more moments passed before she finally spoke again 'I know you cannot, or will not, swear not to do something so foolish again, but please try. Remember what Oromis said, separate yourself from yourself, look upon you as if they were a stranger and when you can pick apart the man that is yourself as well as any other, then know you have become truly wise.'

He rolled his eyes 'Yet also foolish, because you wasted a rather large of time just thinking about you, when you could've done something useful. So I'll pass, thanks.'

Saphira snorted.

'I know' he said again, patting her scales and returning to topic 'I'll try, but… I'm not the type for self reflection. It'd break me.'

'Would it?' she mocked 'Then perhaps you ought to.'

'Thanks for that…' he smiled grimly, the smile fading as darker thoughts took his own mind down a path he'd rather not wander, he sighed and considered the wide expanse of the sky, still so far out of reach despite how high they flew, and it forever would be out of reach, he knew that much 'With all I've done' he started slowly 'All the things I've enjoyed doing, taken pleasure in enacting, the horrors I've inflicted onto men and other beings… if I looked at the man who committed such acts without the protective lense that is my own viewpoint would I, in good conscience, allow such a person to walk free, if walk at all?'

Saphira was silent for a long while but she did finally answer 'Or perhaps you would look at what you've done, what you've enjoyed doing, and realise that, in the grand scheme of things, you are an ant and therefore your pleasure at acts of violence are not so terrible. Especially when compared to the greater suffering of the world' after a moment he was forced to agree 'It may be easier to think of the horrors that men do, Eragon, but forget not the horrors that this world inflicts upon us for no greater crime than existing. We live in a cruel world, and I do not think it is such a terrible thing to take pleasure in death and violence, as long as one does not cause them lacking a grander reasoning.'

That did make him laugh 'Do I have a 'grander reasoning'?'

She shrugged, or the best approximation a dragon could do while in mid flight 'Eh, most of the time you do... I think.'

'Well thanks for the vote of confidence.'

'Just be careful Eragon, that's all I ask.'

Eragon grinned ruefully 'You ask far too much.'

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She knew long before word reached her, she could hear it. Not just in the people around her, not just in their minds, but in the world itself. Nature itself sang of Eragon and Saphira, Dragon Rider's, after all, were something… more, and it was taken note of by far more than just the 'sentient' races. The birds, the plants, the trees, the organisms that lived in the dirt, all of their minds spoke, nay sang, of their coming.

And in equal measure they screamed in fear.

A Shade was coming, he would bring seas of blood, a storm of bones, and rend the world asunder with illness, famine, chaos, and ruin. He brought death, pain, suffering, horror and war, and would unleash it upon all the world. A monster, an unholy union approached them, and it would be most terrible indeed.

While Eragon and Saphira were revered for their connection Eragon and… whatever else existed within him was not, it was reviled, loathed, and hated by the world.

It was not a genuine 'thought', so to speak, they were not aware of Eragon and Saphira directly, well not all of them, but indirectly they could… sense perhaps, or knew, or just… understood that he was near, that he existed. Perhaps it was something deeper than thoughts, something touching into the nature of magic itself, afterall it was evident in her as well, she was 'aware' of Eragon and Saphira, it was just that she could not sense it in herself, nor notice it, while in other beings it was more evident, still subtle, almost non existent, but present if you but knew how to listen.

Not a trait all of her own race fully understood, nevermind those with more limited time to learn.

Arya stood and headed out, striding calmly towards where most people had gathered.

She saw Nasuada, watching the sky, then her as she approached, but back to the sky soon after. Her gaze was relieved, yes, but also stormy. The Leader of the Varden had not been pleased when she had learned of Eragon's actions. Leaving, without permission, on a quest that Nasuada felt endangered him too much, and especially while Murtagh was a very real threat, not just to him but to the Varden as a whole.

Behind closed doors Nasuada had expressed her anger quite… colourfully.

Arya's gaze quickly turned to the sky though, just as Saphira swooped down. Men and women rushed out of the way, while children whooped, and the dragon thudded into the ground with a bone breaking force, enough to make men stumble, even she felt a little unsteady, though it was nothing compared to those around her.

Though the force with which she landed was intense, Saphira was a dragon, and her bones were made of tougher stuff than mortal men, or immortal elves, and she simply shrugged off the impact, snorting out a flame.

Eragon was down first, armoured as he had been when she last saw him, with Durza, it still confused her calling his sword that while she, 'knew' was too strong a word, 'was acquainted' with a man, well sort of a man, who also bore that name. He had borne that sword as well, before Eragon took it from whatever remained of the being that was Durza.

Though naturally Eragon could name the sword whatever he wished, it was his after all, and no doubt the legend of his sword would far outlive tales of the Shade they had both known, that did not stop it from being confusing at times.

His cousin came down next and then Saphira crouched low, allowing Roran to aid a young woman down from the dragon. Roran's betrothed no doubt, there truly was no doubt, Arya could feel it within her mind and through Roran's sparse attempt at a defence. Eragon's tutorship she assumed. The feelings they had for each other were… intense, so much so that she purposefully backed away from their minds, only glancing touches, such that she was not wholly exposed to them

Only after his two passengers, or his dragons rather, had descended did the Rider finally move to stand further forwards, before his leader, Nasuada. His eyes examined her, lingering long on the bandages on her arms, and the strained expression on her face, his own expression unreadable as his watched Nasuada, who in turn was watching him..

Then he cracked a grin, one that lacked much of its usual humour, almost bitter in its appearance, but a grin nonetheless "You look like hell."

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Nasuada felt a muscle in her cheek twitch, but forced a polite smile "To the contrary you look quite well" she forced her kindest smile, one she knew looked good, she had spent many hours perfecting it in her younger years after all "I am glad you are safe, Eragon."

He chuckled "Of course you are" his eyes returned to her injuries "Who?"

"Myself."

That made him raise an eyebrow "Oh?" a slight frown creased his features, confusion, understandable given the situation "To what end?"

"The end of fulfilling my duty. Strengthening the Varden's position to the ultimate end of the successor of our endeavour. But there is time for such tales later" she casually closed the distance between them, until the men who circled around could not overhear what she was about to say, yet Eragon could "What in the hell were you doing?" and then hissed a question at him with more venom than she intended.

He grinned, again, that same half hearted grin "My duty" he retorted.

She bristled "You could've…"

"I could've" he agreed, stopping her, speaking to her in a low flat tone, the kind she knew well, the kind she used to express disappointment, keeping his expression neutral and polite, much as she did "But I'd rather ask forgiveness, than ask permission, be denied, and do it anyway" their eyes met and she refused to look away "So the question now becomes, can you afford to not forgive me, Lady Nasuada?"

She let out a long slow breath, then took a step back, her expression stern and imperious, but hinted underneath was pride, and all of it a falsehood "My orders have been completed then, Shadeslayer, Galbatorix's foul tool, the Ra'zac have been slain by your hand?" she asked aloud, so that all might hear.

Eragon's grin widened at her response. She would neither forgive nor forget, but those around them would never know such a conflict existed, indeed those around could not know, lest it undo the very foundation of all that had been built "It is done, my Lady" he declared, equally as loud, just as fake "The Ra'zac are dead, and my cousins betrothed have been saved from their grasp."

Nasuada then turned her gaze to Katrina, almost hidden behind Roran, and felt an almost genuine smile touch her face "I am glad you managed to rescue her" she told Roran "And I am truly glad you are safe" Katrina half bowed, looking like a cornered cat, unsure of where to look or where to turn.

"Roran Stronghammer!" Orrin marched, with nobles and soldiers, towards them. He strode forwards, clapped Roran on the arm, bowed to Katrina and kissed her hand, offered warm greeting to Eragon.

He did not know of Eragon's defiance, few did. Arya, who was the first to know having informed even Nasuada of Eragon's departure after he left Murtagh's sword with her, Elva, who had been in the room at the time, and Angela, who informed herself, somehow. That was it, all others believed it to be a mission she had not only consented to, but indeed ordered him to perform.

And it would stay that way.

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It felt like they were stood there, surrounded on all sides, for hours. Endless men wishing to kiss her hand, to shake Roran's, and of course to speak with the famed Dragon Rider Eragon. It was clear why they were all here, clear why they showed any courtesy to the pair of them, because they were related to the Rider, but all those nobles really wished was to ingratiate themselves to Eragon.

It was kind of disgusting in truth, to sit through these pleasantries knowing they weren't meant for you, or at least weren't intended to do anything for you.

Orrin, the King of Surda, was the only one who seemed truly interested in her and her plight, and even then his interest did not make her comfortable, quite the opposite in fact, though thankfully it was subtle enough that others did not notice and cause a fuss, especially Roran, the last thing she needed was him and a King at each other's throats.

At some point though Eragon's patience ran out, she could tell, hell anyone could he had stopped giving polite, or even non committal, even vaguely human responses, and started just glaring at everyone who dared speak to him. Yet they dared still, and Katrina could almost see the signs of his temper rising, see a vein pulsing in his neck.

But before any of that could occur there was a noise so loud it deafened her, made her fall to her knees and weep, stunned her silent.

A dragon's roar, at point blank, was not easy to brush off, even Roran was pained, or so she noticed in the aftermath. The nobles scrambled and screamed, Orrin himself backed away hastily, his soldiers looking unsure of what to do but holding their weapons threateningly, but not at the source of the threat. Nasuada had vanished at some point, and the only other person of note was Eragon, completely unaffected, merely cocking a brow at his dragon.

"We're tired" he said roughly, all illusion of politeness gone "We'll be taking our leave now."

"Of course, Lord Eragon" Orrin said, clapping his hands "My apologies I did not think we would take so long" he offered other pleasantries but quickly made his own exit, as did the rest, hastily, but not too much so as to appear impolite.

And this left them with a crowd on all sides staring endlessly at them all.

Eragon didn't seem to care, he strode right at a solid wall of people, and they just moved, first enough room for him, then as she and Roran hurried to follow enough room for them as well, and finally a space almost larger than a roadway opened up for them as Saphira brought up the tail of their little convoy and was also given more than enough space.

They walked for a good while, long enough that her legs were starting to ache, though given how long it had been since she had walked any distance that was no good measurement, but she was tired and had been for a long time, so it may have been five minutes, or twenty.

And none of this was helped by the fact that she was not entirely convinced Eragon knew where he was going, he walked quickly enough, but not with great purpose. He didn't look for signs, or people, and he wasn't following a well beaten path, indeed he seemed to be walking randomly, at least from what she could discern.

The crowd had fully dispersed a long time ago, now only a few were around them, and most just quietly bowed to Eragon and otherwise ignored them, it was at this time that Eragon turned to look at the pair of them, and seemed to weigh them up for a while, the couple before him, before finally smiling.

If it weren't for those eyes, Katrina might find that smile comforting.

As it was, she was grateful when it stopped looking at her, when Eragon strode over, patted Roran on the shoulder, ruffled her hair in a playful manner, and then was gone, Saphira hot on his tail, though she too stopped to offer them both a nod, which Katrina responded to by curtseying as best as she could.

After they were gone she looked around, then looked to Roran who looked none the wiser. Where had they been brought to?

Their first, and the only one required, hint came when Elene, wife of Horst, emerged from a tent, spotted them and cried out, then, at Elene's cry, yet more familiar faces emerged from the surrounding tents.

It was odd, like a weight pressed on her heart, Katrina felt a smile so wide it made her face hurt erupted onto lips, while her eyes blurred as tears fell down her face. They surrounded the pair of them, laughing, crying, hugging, the whole village, and Katrina wasn't sure if she was sad or happy or anything. Katrina did not know what she felt in this moment, but not once did Roran let go of her, her hand was in his the entire time.

And for that she was truly grateful.

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"Lord Eragon?" she asked from the other side of the fabric, denying her entry.

To her left a dragon slept, or at least Trianna thought she was sleeping, it was hard to tell, very hard in fact, especially as the dragon seemed to be capable of sleeping with one eye open, and occasionally appeared to react to those around her following them with her one open eye. So maybe she was not asleep merely keeping very still… and occasionally snoring.

But for now Trianna would assume she was, in fact, asleep.

She could practically hear him roll his eyes, or maybe it was just the tone of his voice, so bored, disparaging even, of her, her opinion, her everything. He did not sound terribly… happy "I'm no lord, Trianna" a beat passed, a more impatient voice spoke next "What do you want?"

"May I enter?" she inquired.

There was a short exhalation, almost a sigh "If you wish" he answered after a moment.

She did.

It was dark in the tent, there was no fire, no candle, and no other, more ethereal source of light, and no flaps open to allow the sunlight entry, but she could make her way through just fine in the dull emittance allowed through gaps in the material, and that more intense light which shone clean through the material.

The tent itself was hardly befitting one with standing such as he, equal if not above the royalty themselves, but nor was it a plebs affair either. It had a bath, a sturdy wooden bed quilted in royal green, a table upon which had been laid swords, a roughly man shaped mannequin upon which had been placed his armour. There was even a patterned rug covering most of the floor.

To any of the lower ranks this would likely be seen as the height of excess, to some of the nobility this was just right, for her own tastes this was a little drab, but for a Rider?

Trianna had no idea of his personal opinion of the rooms their Lady Nasuada had provided, but she felt that it was unbefitting him, almost an insult, almost but not quite, and the kind of insult that, to respond to, would only make one look a fool, or arrogant, or an arrogant fool.

None of which were good things to be labelled as.

Eragon himself sat before the table, considering the swords that were sat there. Two in total, one she had seen before, the other unfamiliar, and not the one he had previously borne, but Trianna paid them all little mind. Swords, the tools of the common soldier, were of no real interest to her, magic was to swords what swords were to sticks, and magic was the weapon she wielded.

Quite adeptly, if she did say so herself, which she did, though not in a way that was at all boastful or arrogant, it wouldn't do to appear in such a light after all, confident yet cautious was the best way to appear, knowing one's limits, yet knowing, and perhaps exaggerating just a little, their strengths too.

"Lord Eragon" he turned his gaze to her, sullen and disinterested, yet even though his expression screamed of boredom, those eyes. They were still so… terrifying… and mesmerising. She felt like she could drown in them, and like they wanted to drown her. And they were so red, so very, very red. Redder than blood, spurting from a neck wound.

Red eyes.

Trianna blinked, but her thoughts, wherever they had been, were interrupted by Eragon's coarse voice.

"Did you need something?" he asked with a feigned sweetness that came off as bitter "Or are you just here for the pleasure of my company, because if so I'm afraid you'll find I'm quite lacking in pleasure today."

She put on a smile that would make men swoon, Eragon didn't even blink "I merely wished to speak with you about our performance in the battle, the Du Vrangr Gata that is, and how we might best serve in future. As well as, if I may be so bold, offer my own humble opinion on your leadership."

For a moment Trianna feared rejection, the look in his his eyes downright disdainful, and indeed she even planned her response, understanding and placating, but one that would not lose her face, or harm her pride.

But before she could get further he sighed, shaking his head, then nodded, distinctly at her "You may" he stood, and offered her the chair, which she took graciously "So please, regale me with your questions and the answers you want to hear, Trianna."

"Indeed" she kept her smile despite his words "Well then, may I start with how you personally evaluate our performance? Were we of significant use to you and how might we improve, personally I thought that our joining was quite effective when battling enemy magicians, especially with you on our side, though even on our own it would present an advantage, also…"

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She heard voices in the tent, talking, discussing, conferring, perhaps even debating, and amiably too. Most unusual. So unusual in fact that she paused for a moment to listen.

'Trianna, the magic girl' a sleepy voice in her head told her. Arya turned her head to acknowledge the dragon who, to even her senses, had appeared to be asleep 'She's been in there for a while, asking about this and that, and the other too. Oh, and her hand keeps finding its way to Eragon's thigh… most unusual, don't you agree?'

Arya did not respond, beyond a respectful bow of her head, and mumbling of the phrase 'May the stars watch over you'. Saphira chortled.

The elven woman tapped on the cloth covering the entrance.

And the response was immediate "What do you want?" a voice asked, Arya could practically feel the sneer purely in his tone.

"I brought you your…" she paused and reconsidered her words "What you left in my keeping."

She heard some words being muttered, too quiet and distant even for her, and then a woman's voice say "Indeed". Sounds of movements followed, and then Trianna emerged from the tent, offered her a polite but also venomous smile, and then left. Arya didn't dignify that with a response, it wasn't worth one.

"Are you coming in, or do you want to teleport it to me?" Eragon asked, his voice gaining an edge.

She entered, not desiring conflict right now, and for a moment her eyes and Eragon's met, then she looked away, placed Murtagh's sword, or former sword as the case may be, with the other two he had lying on a table, assuming that was a good enough place for it, and then immediately turned to leave. Arya was at the entryway before another word was spoken.

"Thank you."

The words… were surprising, and made her stop, and turn to him again. All the questions bubbling in her head rose and begged to be asked, she asked perhaps the least interesting one of the bunch "Why not take it with you?"

Eragon shrugged, he was sat on the bed, staring at the ground, occasionally looking up to her when he could be bothered. He looked… tired, and something else she couldn't quite place, mournful was too strong, miserable maybe, just mildly grieved, like he had lost something he didn't want to, but not something vital. Maybe that too was entirely wrong, maybe he was just very bored, or dissatisfied with life as it was.

"It's not mine" he answered, fiddling with his hands, not nervously, but just as something to do "I can't carry it into battle, because it's not mine" his gazed turned to the sword, an odd smile on his face "It never will be."

"Is Zar'roc still yours?" she inquired.

"Was it ever?"

Ignoring the fact that that contradicted with his previous statement, which would no doubt just serve to aggravate him, Arya didn't have an answer.

Instead she took a step forward, and brushed some hair from Eragon's eyes, letting their full glory survey her, let herself be drowned in those eyes that made all else in the world matter less, because those eyes looked at her, everything else could go hang. At least, until they stopped, until the terror of being beheld by that gaze faded away, and the world mattered a little more.

Confusion grew on his face at her almost intimate touch and she quickly took a step back.

"What happened to Murtagh was not your fault. Nor your responsibility."

"I know."

"I know you do, but I still feel you need reminding" she considered him, sat there, looking at the ground again "He is the enemy Eragon" his hand clenched into a fist "and I do know you don't want him to be, I know you want to help him, save him even" a sneer found its way to his lips "But some men cannot be saved. Sometimes the best you can do is…"

Eragon laughed, a cruel harsh noise "You elves and your pragmatic views on euthanasia."

"Is it wrong?"

"No" he admitted, then smirked "But is it right?"

She didn't answer, for there wasn't one. It wasn't right or wrong, most things weren't, it just was, and the rightness or wrongness depended entirely on who viewed the situation "Whatever you chose to do Eragon, the world will react. If he is allowed to live and wreak havoc, or if he dies and those who loved him mourn, the w…"

"I don't give a damn about the world, Arya!" he said, voice turning cold "Murtagh…" he shook his head "Murtagh means more to me than this land, more to me than the Varden, more than…"

"Than your revenge?" she took a step forward again and forced him to look at her, her hand on his chin, his gaze having fallen as his speech trailed off "More than Saphira?" he grabbed her wrist, but she did not back down, not when his grip tightened, not when it continued to tighten, not even when it got so tight she feared he would snap the bone.

He let go.

"Get out" he said simply, not angry, not bitter, just done, done with her, done with this conversation, likely done with much more, but those things were not done with him. Nor, she feared, would they ever be.

She nodded, expression betraying nothing, and saying nothing, turning and leaving as he wished.

Saphira blinked at her as she left, and she murmured an apology to the dragon for angering her Rider, but the dragon just smiled a toothy grin, and sent her on her way with a strangely friendly puff smoke.

Despite her calm demeanor, Arya knew that it was not just the Rider torn on this issue. Murtagh had been Saphira's… friend, she supposed. They had travelled together, broken into Gilead together, they had history, and to be faced with the fact that they now stood on opposite sides in this conflict could hardly be pleasant. Neither Rider nor Dragon knew what to do, yet both knew they must do something, how long it took them to decide could decide the lives of many, and yet they could not be rushed, could not and perhaps even should not.

Arya sighed.

So I haven't been around in a while. Yeah, sorry about that. Shit happened, I'm also now stuck on how to continue, having some continuity issues as in the books Eragon wasn't around at this point so I have to figure out how the fuck things will change, or won't change as the case most likely will be, with him there.

I hope you enjoy the chapter, it hopefully addressed any issues you had, I know only one of you talked about issues with the mountain being crushed, but I took that too heart and found it really bothered me, so now its altered. Sorry for those of you who really liked that, but it IS unrealistic as all hell, even with the stupid amount of power I've given Eragon.

Anyway, toodles till next time (give it about twenty two years).